


Unconventional

by Ltwillbush



Category: Das Boot (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:24:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltwillbush/pseuds/Ltwillbush
Summary: Tennstedt's medication doesn't seem to be working, but Hoffmann offers an alternative.





	1. Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this will become slash - it isn't yet, but give them time. Trigger warning for vomit.

Tennstedt put his hand on the wall for a moment, closing his eyes and silently begging the world to stop swaying for a moment. His heart was pounding hard enough he could hear his pulse over Hoffmann's instructions, and he felt like if he opened his mouth to speak, he'd throw up instead. His hand - the one not pressed to the wall - shook, and he barely avoided whimpering.

"Is there a problem, 1WO?" Hoffmann asked - evidently, he'd taken too long to respond, and the  _ kaleun _ had noticed. Damn him. He swallowed hard before speaking cautiously. 

"No, sir."

Hoffmann twisted to glance at him, frowning. "You don't sound sure, Tennstedt."

"There's no-" he broke off, closing his eyes again as he tried to get his frantic heartbeat under control. It was ridiculous; he could control a whole boat full of men, but not himself.

A hand landed on his shoulder, resting there for a second before squeezing lightly. He looked around, catching something like sympathy on Hoffmann's face. "There's no problem, Sir."

"Then fire one, fire two."

"Yes, s-" he broke off, twisting away just in time to be sick, retching and coughing. He was only vaguely aware of Hoffmann giving the order himself, and he started violently when a hand touched his shoulder again.

"It's alright." 

"Don't-"

"You're ill. It's fine." Hoffman still had his hand on his shoulder. He focused on that - a warm, gentle weight. "Loosen your collar. My father gets… in a soldier, they would call it shell shock."

He looked up, into Hoffmann's steady, calm eyes. The crew suddenly cheered - the torpedo must have struck home. He didn't move, still focusing on trying to breathe. Hoffmann's fingers were at his throat and he would have yanked away, if not for that reassuring hand on his shoulder. The  _ kaleun _ loosened his tie, undid two buttons, pushing the damned cross aside to do so.

"There. Wait here a minute, I'll go and-" a scream rang out, and suddenly he was right back where he started, shaking hard enough to almost knock Hoffmann over. "It's okay. Just wait here. I need to go sort this."

"Yes…" he wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, just that it sounded very soothing. Hoffmann vanished, and he allowed himself to sink to the floor, pressing his forehead to his knees.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before Hoffmann reappeared, but he could still hear pained yelling and the clamouring of the crew. Hoffmann glanced at him, that sympathy in his eyes again.

"Come get some air."

"Sir…" he straightened a little, trying to understand. He should be dismissed or at least sent to his bunk. But Hoffmann just waited patiently. "Why?'

"The men are preoccupied. Loidl is badly injured. I'm taking Greenwood to the bridge." He paused. "He looks almost as green as you."

Tennstedt blinked, then offered a small, weak smile. As much as he didn't want to be near the passenger, fresh air was tempting. "Alright."

"Go. I'll follow." Hoffmann gestured for him to take the lead. "No one will bother you."

He nodded and rose unsteadily, slowly making his way to grab a coat then up to the bridge. He skirted past Greenwood, standing at the back of the bridge and closing his eyes again. He half-listened as Hoffmann spoke to Greenwood, but his English was patchy at best and he didn't understand most of it. Eventually, Greenwood vanished back inside, and he slowly made his way forward to join Hoffmann.

"Why did you…"

"I hoped it would help." Hoffmann glanced at him, adjusting his scarf. "Did it?"

"Yes, thank you." He gave a slight smile, burying his hands in his pockets to hide how they still trembled. Really, he needed to take his medication, but it was hidden in his bunk. "It won't happen again, sir."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." Hoffmann murmured, though he didn't sound angry. "If you… wanted to… discuss it…"

Tennstedt immediately closed off again. "That will not be necessary, sir."

"Tennstedt." Hoffmann looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't know where to start. "I know you don't… think I should be here-"

"I didn't… that's not it."

"Then tell me what it is, Tennstedt." Hoffmann looked at him, not angry, just curious. "You want command, don't you?"

"Yes. No. Yes…"

"So you want me gone." He still didn't look angry. Damn him.

"No! Just… I wish I  _ could _ command."

"And without me…"

"No. I know it, you know it, Lorient knows it. You saw why."

"Tennstedt… many people have-"

"Pervatin works for them." He swallowed, acutely aware of his still-open collar. "It just makes me crazier."

"You're not crazy." Hoffmann touched his shoulder again, and Tennstedt was finally able to stop trembling. 

"Sir..."

"Klaus. For this… call me Klaus. You need a friend, not a superior."

"Klaus. If they knew how I reacted this afternoon…"

"Which is why it will not be mentioned. If anyone asks, we tell them you caught my cold." Klaus smiled. "Look… I'll speak to Greenwood about how he… irritates you. Try to ignore him. It's only another day or two."

"He's a Jew!"

"No, he isn't. He just thinks riling you up is entertaining."

Karl scowled. "I see."

"He's bored. You would be if everyone around you was speaking a foreign language. This is a  _ u-boot, _ not a cruise ship."

"I suppose." Finally, he moved to refasten his collar. The memory of Klaus' fingers against his throat would haunt him, and he knew it. "The seaman…"

"I'll ask the Americans to take him. If he stays here… he won't make it home."

"You'll hand him to the enemy, sir?"

"To save his life? Yes." Hoffmann looked out at the sea for a minute. "Here, he's in danger. He puts  _ us _ in danger. An injured man is useless during action, and despite Lorient's orders I cannot assume we won't engage the enemy again."

"Not if you get your way." Tennstedt muttered. Hoffmann looked over.

"You think me a coward."

"You abandoned a wolf-pack!"

"The pack lost two boats. We were outgunned, outnumbered, out planned. Our presence would have changed nothing, except perhaps three vessels lost instead. This boat is new, this  _ crew _ is new. Even with the drills, they're not a team yet." He paused. "Look. I know everyone thinks I got this position because of my father, and maybe I did. But there's nothing any of us can do about that out here except work together, and for that to work, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, 1WO?"

He stood quietly for a moment. He'd been so determined to hate the younger, newer man that he'd never considered what that hate meant for efficiency. "Yes, sir."

"And do you trust me as a friend?" Hoffmann raised an eyebrow at his confused look. "There are many men I trust at sea I wouldn't spend free time with if you paid me."

"Yes, s… Klaus "

"Good." He glanced at his watch. "We should go inside. Routine is the backbone of success."

"A quote from your father."

"You need new reading material." Klaus smiled, looking amused. "And actually, that was my mama. Her method of getting him to the dinner table at night."

"I see." Karl hesitated. "An intelligent woman."

"Very." He smiled again, then vanished below. 


	2. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Klaus tries something new...

Tennstedt started awake, heart pounding and vision blurred. He groaned quietly, sitting up to put his head in his hands and try to calm himself - usually, he'd down a tablet, but Klaus' hatred of them made him reconsider. It wasn't like they worked, anyway.

He slid silently out of his bunk, slowly making his way to the control room. The  _ kaleun _ was on watch, again, idly looking over a chart. He glanced up, indicating that Tennstedt should join him.

"Is everything alright, 1WO?"

"Yes, sir." He looked at the clock, confused. "You should be resting. It's Ehrenberg's watch."

"Couldn't sleep. This damn cough." Hoffmann rubbed his eyes. "We should talk about tomorrow. Come with me." 

He rose to head to his bunk, Tennstedt following slowly. He took his shoes off, sitting down and indicating the other man should sit. "I'll be leaving you in charge here. I need men who speak English - Schiller. Maybe Strasser."

"Yes, sir." Tennstedt understood being left out - he wouldn't be able to understand negotiations in English, and it was tactically sensible to leave at least one officer aboard. What he didn't understand was why Hoffmann had moved them here to say it. "If that's all, sir-"

"Wait." Hoffmann looked at him for a long moment, then shifted to draw the curtain closed, giving them privacy, of a sort. "You had a nightmare?"

Damn him being observant. "Yes… Klaus."

"I need you well-rested, not asleep on your feet. Is there anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head - nothing helped anymore. Not even getting drunk, which wasn't an option anyway. "I'll be fine. I've had them for a while."

"What are they about?"

He bit his lip. He'd never discussed the dreams - he had few close friends, and comrades would just judge. "Death."

"Death?"

"My death. Well… being thrown overboard afterward. No one caring. No proper ceremony. Just… dropped."

That warm hand - maybe too warm - was back on his shoulder. "I assure you that won't happen aboard my boat."

"You can't promise I won't be killed."

"Perhaps not. But I'd see you got respect. And I'd care." His thumb was making little circles. It was… nice.

"Why?"

"It's my duty, as your commander. And as your friend."

"Is that why…"

"Why what?"

"You keep… patting me."

Klaus immediately removed his hand, and Karl barely avoided chasing the contact. "I apologise. I thought…"

"Thought?"

"That you… it helped." Clearly not what he'd intended to say.

"It does." Admitting that felt deeply intimate. He suddenly remembered the way Klaus - and it had very much been Klaus, not Hoffmann - had wrinkled his nose at the suggestion of whores, and that hand was more than just  _ help. _ "Klaus…"

"Ssh." Klaus turned toward him, hand back on his shoulder. More little thumb circles. "Ehrenberg will hear."

"Hear?"

Klaus nodded, then suddenly moved closer. Karl held his breath, afraid he'd misread, then gasped as the other man kissed him.

"Klaus, what-"

"Is this alright?" He was speaking very softly, still incredibly close. Karl's heart was hammering for a whole new reason. "I heard rumours that…"

"Don't talk about rumours." He hesitated, before bringing his own hand up to touch Klaus' cheek. "They'll hear, remember?"

"Then what should I do?" This was new, unfamiliar - yes, he'd kissed before, yes, he'd visited  _ that _ brothel, but no one had asked his permission like this. Stupid Klaus being  _ thoughtful.  _

"Anything." That should shut him up. Klaus gave him that wry smile again, kissing him gently - like he'd break. "Stay."

"What?"

"Stay here. They won't know."

"Klaus!"

"You can just sneak back later. Just lay down." Klaus tugged at him, and he allowed himself to be manhandled into laying beside the  _ kaleun,  _ his back against the other man's chest. The arm that snuck across his waist felt incredibly scandalous, but also made him feel safe for the first time in far too long. Klaus' breath was warm against his neck, and he allowed himself to smile.

"If I catch your cold, I'm going to sneeze in your face."

"Can't. Facing the wrong way." Klaus tugged him a bit closer, humming sleepily. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He echoed, shifting into Klaus' embrace and soon falling asleep.

He stirred a few hours later, blinking in confusion. Evidently, he'd rolled over in his sleep because they were now face to face, with Klaus' face buried against his shoulder. The other man still felt overly warm, but he sounded a bit better and looked relaxed, arms still lightly wrapped around Karl's waist. 

"Klaus."

"What?" One eye opened, and the other man tilted his head back to look at Karl. "What's wrong?"

"It's almost watch change. I should go."

Klaus grumbled, pulling him closer for a moment before reluctantly nodding. "Alright."

"Go back to sleep." Karl hesitated, before kissing him very lightly. "It's my watch first."

"Okay…" Klaus let him slip out of the narrow bunk - they'd had to lay very close to fit - and immediately shivered. Karl shook his head, and snuck back to his own bunk to wait for the rest of the crew to wake up.


	3. Failings

A few hours later, Tennstedt was sitting at the table, scowling down at a chart. He looked up when Hoffmann approached, coughing and sniffling. He was bundled up in a sweater and that well-worn scarf. "Good morning, sir."

"Morning." Hoffmann sat down heavily, smiling faintly. "We should be at the coordinates in a few hours. I trust you can keep the boat afloat while I'm gone?"

"I think the crew and I will cope." He replied drily. "You're still taking Loidl with you?"

"Yes. It's safest for him." He paused, thinking. "You disagree?"

"Not exactly. It's not what Lorient would want, but… I think I know why you're doing it."

"I'm glad you're coming round." Hoffmann joked. "You've got our position wrong, by the way. We're west of that."

Tennstedt flushed. "Well I wasn't sure of the coordinates."

"Lorient said to keep it quiet. I suppose you might as well see now. You can't do much in two hours."

Tennstedt raised his eyebrows. "Thank you for the confidence, kaleun. It's unlike you to disobey an order."

"I suppose you're rubbing off on me." Hoffmann replied innocently. Tennstedt choked, hastily turning it into a cough. Hoffmann looked extremely pleased with himself, standing to fetch the order and hand it over. "Here."

"This is in English."

"Harder for the crew to sneak a look."

"Harder for me to read. I don't speak English… sir."

"Would you like to borrow a dictionary, or should I translate?" Hoffmann raised an eyebrow. "Quite how you've survived this long without picking up some English that isn't swear words is a mystery, but there we go."

"I never saw a need to learn. I know a few phrases and that's always been sufficient. A dictionary would be… helpful."

Klaus stood, fetching a sturdy, leather-bound book and handed it over. "Here."

"Thank you." He bent over the papers, lapsing into silence as he worked. Klaus watched for a while, before wandering off.

*

Tennstedt lay on his back, staring at the underside of the upper bunk. His heart was pounding hard enough to hurt, and he'd already had to dart to the bathroom several times to be sick. No one had spoken to him since Hoffmann removed him from duty, but he didn't care - none of them would understand, anyway.

Everything seemed to have calmed, finally, so he slowly slid out of his bunk to go and see if he could speak to Klaus. Unfortunately, when he reached the control room, Ehrenberg was there, discussing a chart.

"Kaleun," he began, trying to keep from visibly shaking. Hoffmann didn't even look up, his back toward him.

"I told you you're dismissed. You shouldn't be in here."

"Yes, sir, but-"

"I don't have time for your excuses. Go to your bunk and stay there!"

The words stung, and for a long moment he couldn't move, feeling like his veins were filled with ice. "Sir-"

"Go!"

"Yes, sir." He turned, walking back slowly. It seemed to take an age to arrive back in the cramped, hot space, and curling in his bunk did nothing to comfort him. Not like Klaus' words, or his touch. Tennstedt fumbled in the blankets, snatching up the almost-empty tube of pills and swallowing one dry, before turning his back to the rest of the ship and closing his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep because he woke with a cry, frantically clawing at the blankets and struggling to sit up, burying his head in his hands as dizziness threatened to tip him right out of the bunk. He was only very vaguely aware of someone speaking to him before hurrying off, mostly focused on not throwing up again. Someone touched his arm and he yelped, shying away.

"Sir?" It was von Haber, looking worried. "The kaleun wants to speak to you."

He blinked, slowly, and struggled to his feet. He had to keep one hand on the wall, he felt so dizzy and sick. He reached the tiny, curtained 'cabin' he'd visited the previous night, and found Hoffmann waiting. The other man had his arms folded as he leaned on the wall, looking pale and tired.

"Sir…" he began, one hand still on the wall. Hoffmann gestured for him to sit, yanking the curtain closed before sitting beside him, coughing into his elbow for a moment before looking at Tennstedt.

"Max said you were crying out."

"Yes, sir." He hesitated. "I apologise, I-"

"Why did you hit Greenwood?"

"Sir?"

"I told you not to let him annoy you. Why did you hit him?"

He hesitated. While explaining to Klaus was what he'd planned, telling the kaleun was very different.

"He insulted my mother, sir."

"I see." He still hadn't moved to put his hand on his shoulder, and Tennstedt was still shaking hard enough to jostle the other man. "You shouldn't have hit him."

"Yes, sir." He swallowed hard, gripping his own leg to try and still his hands. "I apologise, I…"

"He shouldn't have said anything." Hoffmann pushed his hair back, sighing. "Look, Tennstedt, I have to maintain discipline. What you did was greatly out of line."

"Yes, sir." He couldn't look at Hoffmann, not with his head swimming. "I should… return to my bunk, sir."

"Wait." Hoffmann looked at him, expression softening a little. "Earlier. You weren't trying to get your position back, were you?"

"No, sir. I… I had… another attack of…"

"Then I owe you an apology." Hoffmann gave him a small smile. "Ehrenberg told me you were approaching and looked angry. I neglected to check for myself."

"I shouldn't have assumed that…"

"I told you that you could speak to me if you needed to, and I meant it. This damned cough… not thinking. How can I help?"

"I took the pervitin… it didn't help…"

"That's not what I asked, Karl."

"Can you… yesterday, you…"

Klaus immediately placed a hand on his shoulder. "Try to breath. Loosen your collar. You're not on watch, there's no need to be proper."

Karl nodded, fumbling at his own throat. Klaus huffed, gently batting his fingers aside to do it himself.

"There. Look. The men need to see discipline, so you're to remain off-duty for 24 hours. But there'll be no further mention of it. I'll make sure the other officers know."

"Yes, sir…"

"You need to rest. Stay here a while. I gave orders I wasn't to be disturbed."

"Sir, I-"

"Klaus."

"Klaus. You need rest, too."

"I slept rather well last night. You make a rather comfortable pillow."

"Thank you?" He blinked, slowly. "It… helps."

"Good. Here." He shifted closer, bringing a hand - the one not still holding his shoulder - up to his cheek, smoothing the skin with his thumb. "You're safe. It's quite alright."

Karl hummed, slowly leaning into the touch. The gentle, soothing touch did wonders to calm him, easing his trembling until he was able to rest against Klaus, tucking his face into the other man's neck. He could feel Klaus' breath, hot and occasionally broken by coughs, against his own neck, and he couldn't help but smile at how intimate it was.

After a few minutes, he felt Klaus gently guiding him into laying down, and went willingly. He ended up on his back, Klaus tight against his side with one arm draped across Karl's waist. Again, the kaleun was using his shoulder as a pillow, jostling him a bit as he coughed.

"You should see the medic…"

"Just a cold. Go to sleep."

"You're always so bossy." Karl muttered, obediently closing his eyes even as Klaus poked him, laughing softly.

*

He woke, and for a moment didn't know why. Then he felt Klaus - still curled against him - shake again as he coughed harshly. He frowned, carefully feeling the younger man's forehead and biting his lip at the burning heat.

"Klaus."

The other man didn't respond, other than to whimper faintly. Karl quickly slid out of the bed, and hurried to find the medic.

"Hoffmann is sick, a fever. He needs attention."

"Aren't you supposed to be in your bunk?" Laudrup replied, though he did at least move to grab the medical kit.

"I thought I should check on him. He was unwell even before… his swim."

"Indeed. Get out of the way, then."

Instead of going back to his bunk, Tennstedt followed to listen as the medic checked on Hoffmann. He looked horribly pale, a sheen of sweat making him look sicker still. 

"Pneumonia," Laudrup offered. "Fetch some water. What have we got…"

"Sulfapyridine, if you have it." Tennstedt offered quietly. When Laudrup gave him a quizzical look, he shrugged. "I had it myself."

"You're sure?"

"Certain."

"Alright." He shook out two pills, giving them to the half-awake man with some water. Tennstedt fetched a cloth, wetting it before laying it carefully on his forehead. Hoffmann opened his eyes, coughing hard before speaking in a rasp.

"Tennstedt… take charge…"

"But he was relieved of duty, sir." Schiller protested. Hoffmann shook his head slightly.

"It's… sorted. Take… take charge."

"Yes, sir." Tennstedt nodded, before turning to shoo the loitering crew away. "Don't you have jobs to do? Ehrenberg, show me our course."

"Fuck's sake, there's two of them." Schiller muttered. Tennstedt rolled his eyes, and walked past him to try and work out a course.

Some time later, he finally had a minute to sit down on his bunk, groaning tiredly. He'd briefly checked on Klaus before leaving Schiller in charge, and had found the younger man sleeping curled up on himself.

Unfortunately, that meant they couldn't talk, so Tennstedt had to stay quiet, pulling off his tie to lay down. Before he could, though, Wrangel spoke up.

"This boat is a disaster."

Tennstedt ignored him, stuffing his tie at the foot of the bunk. Wrangel sat up, looking at him with something like pity.

"The commander sent you to your bunk, right?"

"I deserved it. Now shut up, I'm tired."

"Picking up the slack of an embarrassing commander?"

"Doing my job while my commander is sick." He corrected testily. Wrangel smiled.

"Wouldn't you rather have command all the time? This upstart…"

"Has more backbone than you'll ever have. Goodnight." Tennstedt turned his back, scowling. Bloody mutinous git. He faked sleep until he was certain Wrangel was sleeping, before creeping back out of his bunk to return to the control room, pausing to check that Hoffmann was still sleeping soundly. He strode into the control room, shoving his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Schiller, Ehrenberg, a word.”

The two men hurried over, and he sat down with them. “Wrangel wants to overthrow Hoffmann. We must ensure he doesn’t succeed.”

“Aye, sir. But… I thought you’d agree with him, sir.” Schiller offered hesitantly. Tennstedt considered slapping him, but decided it was too much effort.

“No, I do not. And don’t let me hear you say such a thing again if you don’t wish to be disciplined yourself, is that clear?”

“Aye, sir…” Schiller looked shocked, but didn’t argue. “What should we do, sir?”

"I'm not sure yet."


End file.
